All Bottled Up


I'm all bottled up,

It's no place to be.

I'd rather be flowing,

Wild and free.


They can label me,

"Sparkling", "Fresh", and "Pure".

But, trapped in this bottle,

I feel stagnant, not "Crystal Clear". 


It's amazing how I'd fallen,

In a forest, dark and dank.

And run through mud and rotting debris,

Dead animals that stank.


A haven for bacteria,

And other lowly life,

Leeching all sorts of chemicals,

On my way to the womb of my Earthly midwife.


Through tons of rocky passages,

I've wend my way.

Purified by time,

My aquifer to stay. 


Until I burst to the surface

Flowing wild and free.

May I quench your thirst?

May I wash you free?


Instead, I got pumped,

Down a nasty pipe.

Forced into this bottle,

And sealed so tight.


That I've lost all my oxygen,

And smell of formaldehyde.

Shaken, not stirred,

On a bumpy truck ride. 


To the heat of this,

God forsaken place.

On a dusty shelf,

Just going to waste.


Oh, buy me, please buy me,

And let me out.

Drink me, oh drink me,

Or pour me out.


Let me evaporate or run free.

Let me be what I am supposed to be.

Don't keep me all bottled up,

Come here, and let me fill your cup.


More Poems

My Place

Read War's End, the Novel

Copyright 1999 (c) Ronald W. Hull